


How to Kiss Your Local Eldritch Horror: a Guide.

by mollymaukerie



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: First Kiss, Making Out, Other, others mentioned - i have to keep updating this tag because it keeps auto-switching to freeform gdi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 15:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14499762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollymaukerie/pseuds/mollymaukerie
Summary: Damien is pretty confident Oz will ask him out for prom. The question is: how the hell does he kiss them on prom night?





	How to Kiss Your Local Eldritch Horror: a Guide.

**Author's Note:**

> Includes a few little headcanons I have for Oz (mainly being an eldritch horror because there's no wiki yet to tell me what kinda monster they are).

If there’s one thing the students of Spooky High School know how to do, it’s spending their time in class productively.

Of course, they’re not doing what they _should_ be doing. At all. If anyone has a textbook open, chances are they’re actually reading ‘Dragon Heat’ or some other kind of trashy erotica behind it. Chances are the teacher is as well.

There was something out of the ordinary, though. At least as out of the ordinary for a high school full of actual monsters. One of which, for a pleasant change, wasn’t setting fire to the classroom.

Damien sat rather quietly at his desk, except for the few curse words he grumbled under his breath, as he tried to write out a list of some sort. Just about every item on the list had been crossed out in erratic scratches of black ink. The only thing that remained legible was the title, written in an almost shaky scrawl. ‘ _How to kiss a loser that doesn’t have a mouth._ ’

His gaze flicked across the room to another student, sitting a few seats ahead to his left. Oz sat in their chair, feet hanging over the desk as they held a small globule of dark mass in their palms. The little stick arms wiggled frantically as Oz scratched the top of its head playfully, the corners of their eyes softening. It was hard to tell when they were smiling, due to the obvious lack of any kind of lips or mouth, but their eyes always gave it away.

Damien looked away before he could risk Oz turning to look back and scratched out the idea that had come to him before. Prom was coming up, and Damien was banking on Oz asking him out as a date – and if they didn’t, Damien was going to have to beat them senseless, because that’d be rude after all the shameless flirting they’ve done lately. One thing might lead to another, as it often does. And as Damien hoped.

But how the hell was he going to kiss Oz?

He thought maybe Oz had a mouth, but the space where their lips were was so close together it was impossible to see. But at the same time, he never really saw Oz eat anything. Those little shadow globules often did though, when they sat down at the cafeteria. But kissing one of those little creatures wasn’t the same as kissing Oz. Or would it be? Damien had no clue.

Asking would be strange, too. Of course, Damien was going to ask if he _could_ kiss Oz, if and when they went to prom. But he felt like he should know how to kiss them before that point. It’d be weird if he went in for the kill – so to speak – and just spent the entire time trying to figure out where to put his lips. That wouldn’t be rad at all. Going back to hell would be better than that outcome.

He felt an arm press down on his shoulder as Liam leaned down to look at the paper from behind him. On the other side of him, Vera placed her hand down on the table, keeping the notebook there to keep Damien from ripping it away.

“What’s this?” she asked, already with too wide a grin.

Both Vera and Liam recoiled as Damien slammed his palm down on his notebook, the page under his hand crinkling and curling with an amber-edge as it began to catch fire. He knew it was too late though. Both of them had read the page.

“A hearty meal of mind-your-own-business I’m going to feed you nosy fucks, that’s what!” Damien shouted over the general chatter of the class. It disturbed virtually no-one; they were all pretty used to Damien’s outbursts after years of him picking fights with inanimate and animate objects alike, students, teachers, the haunted willow tree on the school grounds. Just another normal day, really.

From their seat, Oz turned just a little, watching as Liam and Vera verbally eviscerated Damien. They heard Vera asking for at least a hundred monster dollars for a professional ‘consultation’ to help him out with his problem while Liam boasted about having a few hundred years of experience and that his advice would be more helpful.

Oz could tell with just a glance that Damien was furious, the kind that results in the school being shut down for an entire day as the janitor tries to scrub the blood out of the cracks in the floor. As flames started to flicker in his palm and lick his fingers, those sitting nearest Damien began to slide their desks as far away as possible to avoid being caught in whatever over-the-top reaction only a prince of hell could have.

When Damien started setting his desk on fire to throw it at Liam and Vera, now retreating out of the classroom, the entire class began to move to the windows to escape the flames that spread out in waves emanating from Damien’s person. Oz fled with the rest of them, wondering for the millionth time why a monster high school didn’t have a sprinkler system.

They didn’t see Damien for the rest of the day. Liam and Vera, though, they saw plenty, in the halls as they smirked and snickered, clearly pleased about something. It wasn’t until night classes started that Oz saw Damien again, sitting in the back of the stands at the amphitheatre with the charred remains of his notebook and a serious scowl on his face.

Rehearsals were supposed to be on – _supposed_ being the key word, mostly everyone was trying to get Scott to understand that he didn’t have to pee on his tree costume to remember which one was his, seeing as it was the only one, and it was his, for that exact reason – and knowing they weren’t going to be missed, Oz hopped up the amphitheatre steps to the back of the stands. They made the last few steps up with a little hop before they drifted up, floating into a seated position beside Damien. Damien almost jumped in his skin, not having noticed Oz approach.

‘Hey, why the long face handsome? And no, that’s not a horse joke,’ Oz said. Or rather, they didn’t. Conversations with them were strange, it was less of an audible voice, and more a whisper echoing in the back of Damien’s mind. Telepathy wasn’t exactly something he was used to. Damien couldn’t help but stare at Oz for a second as soon as he heard that whisper.

Nothing moved aside from a pair of pale milk-white eyes blinking. No mouth, no lips. Just the whisper.

“I’m not upset.”

‘I never said you were. I asked why the long face. And then I made a bad joke hoping you’d chuckle.’

“Try a good joke next time.”

‘I think my existence is already a good joke, but if I call attention to it, it’s not very funny, see?’

It was stupid enough that it made Damien grin despite the sour mood that Liam and Vera had put him in with their teasing. He was able to fight against the chuckle, but his voice was lighter when he spoke next.

“You’re not cute enough to play that card,” Damien replied.

‘Oh, so I’m cute now?’ Oz asked, the whisper in Damien’s mind suddenly having a more playful lilt. They might not have a mouth, but Damien knew if they had one, Oz would be smirking his stupid cute head off.

“I didn’t say that. I said you’re not cute _enough_ ,” he tried to say, but it was hard to lie about how cute Oz was when they were in that damn musketeer costume. Maybe it was the hat. Maybe it was those little shadow globules that were playing with the feather in the hat. Either way, it was a problem.

‘Maybe not enough, but that means I’m some kind of cute, right?’ Oz asked again.

Damien wished they had a mouth in that moment, if only so he could smack whatever smug look that was off Oz’s face. How could someone without a mouth be so expressive? Oz’s eyes were only slightly lidded, brows lifted just a bit, but it was almost on par with the kind of haughty grins Liam gets when their food pics get more likes than Polly’s.

“If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be hanging out with you…loser,” Damien said, tacking on an insult at the end, if only to deflect from what he’d just admitted to. Not that he’d admit that he admitted to it.

Oz seemed content with that though. The laughter that bounced around in his mind was gleeful, sweet even. Happy. Damien glanced at Oz again, and the smug glimmer in their eyes was gone, and that softened expression was back again; thick white brows low, a little crease in the space between them, and lids low, squinted just a bit.

He looked away, trying not to get distracted by any thought of how handsome Oz was. It was hardly fair. Damien couldn’t think of anything to say though, but the silence wasn’t that uncomfortable.

‘So, do you need advice?’

“Advice? On what?”

Oz leaned against his side a bit, pointing at the open notebook in Damien’s lap. Or, rather, at the slightly charred page on the right side, with a blackened centre and a black-crinkled edge. The title, however wrinkled and frayed, was still legible though.

Damien felt the heat rise on his cheeks, and for once it wasn’t because he was starting an inferno. He briefly debated how quickly he might be able to start one if it got him out of that situation, though. But with Oz leaning close against his side with that almost tender gleam in his eyes, well…was he going to get another chance to play this hand?

“Depends.”

‘On what?’

“Do you know anything about kissing someone that doesn’t have a mouth?”

‘Well, as an official monster without a mouth, I can assure you I happen to know a thing or two.’

“Such as?”

Without another word, Oz reached to take the notebook from Damien’s lap, taking out the pen that was tucked into the spiral spine. They flipped through the notebook until they could find a mostly uncharred page and folded it twice until they were able to rip out a neat little square. Oz handed Damien back his notebook and used their knee to draw something on the paper. After setting the pen down, Oz held up the paper to their face, which now had a small drawing of a pair of lips.

Damien barked a laugh – not out of spite, but out of surprise.

“I don’t think that counts,” he said incredulously, surprised by how simple Oz’s ‘solution’ was.

Oz moved the paper away from their mouth, furrowing their brows a little. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, which one of us was the lip-less expert again?’ they asked playfully.

“Sorry, sorry,” Damien held his hands up apologetically, even though he still laughed.

Happily, Oz returned the paper to where it was before, holding it just above their chin.

Damien bit down on his lip, trying to bite back the smirk that threatened to split his face in two. “So…can I kiss you?” he asked in what was probably the quietest voice he had.

‘I’d like you too,’ Oz replied, the whisper in the back of Damien’s mind just a low.

Damien took a breath, and tilted his head slightly, his nose brushing against Oz’s. His gaze dropped to the lips drawn on the piece of paper and he let out another laugh.

“Fuck, this is so stupid,” he breathed out.

‘Well, fine then, your loss–’ Oz began, almost moving the paper away.

Damien took hold of their hand to stop them. “Hey, don’t move it fuckface, I’m not done yet.”

Taking a breath to steady himself, and moment more to tell his stupid heart to quit being so noisy hammering against his ribs like that, Damien leaned in to kiss Oz.

It was a slight peck, soft, tender. Likely the most gentle thing he’d ever done in his life, and it left his face feeling hotter than any pool of lava in the depths of hell. Damien didn’t feel anything, just the smoothness of paper against his lips. He couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes. He stared at Oz, and Oz returned that gaze with half-lidded eyes gleaming with joy. Or at least Damien hoped that was joy.

When he pulled away though, Oz let the paper fall, and Damien didn’t have time to register the little crack that was appearing in the space where the paper had been. Oz closed the gap between them, their hand sliding over Damien’s shoulder and into his hair, attempting to keep him close. It was a strange feeling. Not quite lips, not quite a mouth, but a shape, slowly forming. Damien felt something sharp closed on his bottom lip, albeit gently, and tug. Teeth.

With closing eyes, Damien returned the kiss. Was it a kiss? The longer it lasted, the more it felt like it. The shape began to shift against his own lips, mirroring the curves, curling at the corners slightly. A tongue brushed against his lip, and it wasn’t his own, and in that moment, it was just him and Oz, making out in the far back of the amphitheatre.

When they pulled away, Damien felt Oz sigh against his mouth. A gasp, a gentle breath, warm against his face. He looked down and saw the curve of two lips, parted slightly, showing only the slightest sign of sharp white teeth and black gums.

“Have you always been able to do that?” Damien asked breathlessly. “Or is this some kind of curse like where the power of love gives you a mouth?”

“Power of love, huh?” Oz asked with a raspy voice, and despite the warmth of his body, the sound of it made a shiver run up his spine. It was similar to the voice that he often heard in his mind when Oz spoke; it was low, and entirely ominous. It was different hearing it though, with that hoarseness to it. Still, their words left Damien with a noticeable flush on his cheeks.

“I didn’t say– just answer the question,” Damien replied, perhaps a little too quickly.

“Well, the bonus of being an eldritch horror is I can sort of pick my form. I get to play around with it,” Oz explained, and the way their lip curled up, tugging into a half-cocked grin that left a dimple in their cheek was a sight Damien greedily dedicated to memory.

“So, why don’t you use it then?” Damien asked.

“I like being in your head,” Oz said, almost crowing it against his lips playfully with a chuckle. The sound of it was so generous to the ears, jagged but sweet, with a tenderness that betrayed the echo it left. “Honestly though, telepathy is just…easier for me.”

“Well, uh…it’s definitely nice. What you’ve got going on there, I mean. With the mouth, and the tongue and all,” Damien said, not exactly sure in that moment of what to say, or if he should be speaking at all after saying something that stupid and brainless.

Oz chuckled again though, and their fingers continued to spin coils around the locks of Damien’s hair.

“There’s a lot of nice things I’ve got going on. Especially with the tongue, and all,” Oz breathed out in a whisper, and even dared to wink at Damien.

Before Damien could come up with a witty reply, Oz stood up, placing a hand over their mouth and blowing a kiss to him. As they turned away though, Damien could see the mouth disappearing, but not before he caught sight of the wide smile on their face.

With a stupid, overly happy grin on his face, Damien looked to the piece of paper that was leaning against his thigh and picked it up, lifting it to his mouth and holding it there as he tilted his head back to stare up at the night sky.

“Fuckin’ loser better ask me to prom after that,” he whispered, almost like a prayer to the paper his lips brushed against, which was pretty ironic all things considered.

His lips still tingled a little from the contact, and Damien hoped he wouldn’t forget the feeling before prom.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: mollymaukerie.


End file.
